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Ida is a newly minted "Certified Maine Life Guide" who wants to help you live a better, happier life.
In Finding Your Inner Moose: Ida LeClair's Guide to Livin' the Good Life, you'll find sections such as: What Did I Do Wrong to Deserve this Turkey Gobbler Neck; How Many Points in Cabbage Soup?; I Can't Die Today Because if Anyone Saw the State of my House I'd Just Die; Feng Shui-ing the Double Wide; Slaying Energy Vampires; Spousal Deafness. This book is 100% Ida, who, as her husband Charlie, often says, "just loves giving advice to people, whether they ask for it or not!"

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Islandport Press is a dynamic, award-winning publisher dedicated to stories rooted in the essence and sensibilities of New England. We strive to capture and explore the grit, heart, beauty, and infectious spirit of the region by telling tales that can be appreciated by readers, dreamers, and adventurers everywhere.

September 2012

09/24/2012

Wowie kazowie! It’s is a big week for me, ‘cause my book is comin’ out this Wednesday, September 26. Oh, my God! I can’t tell you how excited I am about it! The whole thing seems kind of unreal. I mean me? An author?Writin’ a book is what I imagine it’s like havin’ kids, or starting a company, or buying a house nowadays. It sounds like a good idea. Fun even, the logical next step. ‘Course, if you knew all that was involved with doing it when you started, you’d stand a good chance of bein’ paralyzed with fear by the sheer weight of it all. But if you make a start and persevere (you know, one foot in front of the other), you’re constantly surprised by how much love and support comes your way. And there are moments of flat out bliss that just bowl you over, and make you forget the effort. And you know what? Soon as it’s over, you’re ready to do it again!

My book’s the talk of Mahoosuc Mills, of course. Everyone’s waiting for it to come out to see if they’re mentioned in it, you know, lookin’ for their fifteen minutes of fame, I guess. They figure being featured in a book is alot easier than learnin’ how to merengue on “Dancing With the Stars.” And I don’t think they’re gonna be making the “Real Housewives of Mahoosuc Mills” any time soon!

So, just this past week, I’m comin’ out of the Busy Bee with my usual rocket of coffee, when I run into Franny Lefebvre. We get to gabbin’ about the book launch (well, what she should wear to the book launch). And she asks me, not in a mean way, but genuinely curious, “Ida, what made you think you could write a book?”

Well, without thinkin’ about it, I says, “Franny, it never occurred to me that I couldn’t!” Wow! That kind of brought me up short, but you know what? It’s true. (There’s gotta be a life lesson in there somewhere, right?)

Besides, I’m thinkin’, look at some of the fruit loops who write books. How hard can it be? My grandparents workin’ in the textile mills or drivin’ logs down the Kennebec River in the icy spring run off. That’s hard. Cookin’ on a wood stove or meltin’ snow to do laundry. That’s hard. Sittin’ in my cozy double-wide with Scamp, the cutest dog in the world, noodling around on the computer? Not even close.

And, of course, I didn’t do it all by my lonesome. I had my trusty niece Caitlin as my research assistant. Plus, she wrote these little woo woo exercises for the book. Charlie threw in his two cents from the Barcalounger. And then there’s all that good old-fashioned, commonsensical advice givin’ to me over the years from my family and folks here in Mahoosuc Mills.

Besides, when I was doin’ it, I didn’t think of it as writing a book. I just pretended I was talkin’ to a friend. Just like now.

Tune in to Maine Public Radio’s Maine Calling September 25 from 12:15-1:00 to hear an interview with my friend Susan, who’ll give you more of the inside scoop on "Finding Your Inner Moose."

I’ll be traveling around quite a bit in the next few months, so check back here each Monday for where I’ll be that week, or click on the “Where’s Ida” link to the left to see my full schedule.

If you’d like me to do a reading at your library, organization or what not, please don’t hesitate to drop me a line: ida@idaswebsite.comAnd if your book group wants to read "Finding Your Inner Moose," I’d love to be part of the discussion. Especially if food’s involved!

09/17/2012

Well, I just got a smart phone. It was my niece Caitlin’s idea. To tell you the truth, I was fine with my old cell phone, but she insisted.

“Aunt Ida,” she says, “with your book coming out, you’re going to need one of these. If you’re doing a reading, and people want to buy your book, you can use your phone and little credit card gizmo to make the transaction.”

She made the whole thing sound so easy, I got to thinkin’, why not?

That’s the thing with technology. It just sucks you in. Like dyeing your hair. One day, your hair dresser says, “Let’s put a few blonde highlights into that drab brown, what do you say? Give you that sun-kissed look.” And before you know it, you’re into getting your hair frosted, then on to the hard core stuff: processed color, processed color with partial highlights, then with full highlights. Time passes, and pretty soon you can’t even remember what your real hair color was, and you’re dropping big bucks every six weeks so you don’t have to.

Picture taken with my smart phone

Same with technology. You start with a pay-as-you-go phone, then, what the heck, let’s get a regular cell phone. Then there’s any number of reasons why you should dump your cell phone for a smart phone. Meanwhile, if you’re like me, you still don’t know half of what you can do on your old cell phone!

But, trying new things keeps you young, right? And Caitlin has faith in me. Besides, she says she’ll coach me through the whole smart phone transition. Trouble is, she can’t be with me every minute of the day. Like going to buy the darn thing. I had my heart set on doin’ it a week ago Saturday, but Caitlin had to work.

“Not to worry, Aunt Ida,” she says. “I’ll write down exactly what you need to ask for. You have them transfer the data, and I’ll drop by on my way home from the Health Food Store. Give you a little lesson.”

“Gee, I don’t know, Caitlin…”

“You can do it. It’s easy. Don’t let them psyche you out.”

So I drive to Bangor to get my smart phone. After giving myself a little pep talk in the car, I go into the store. And it’s all young fellas workin’ there. I’m guessin’ none of ‘em’s over 30. Meanwhile, all the customers are middle-aged people walking around in a daze. There’s somethin’ so wrong about that.

I know it’s my turn when my name flashes on an overhead screen, and a young salesman, calls me over. “Connor,” it says on his name tag. He doesn’t even look me in the eye. Just gazes down at his screen and says, “Are you 4538?”

What the hell! I’m thinking. Then I realize that 4538’s the last four digits of my phone number.

“Yup,” I reply. “Better known as Ida.”

No smile from Connor, but that got him to make eye contact, anyways. So I read to him what I want, and he tries to talk me into waiting for the newer, more powerful model to be released and maybe I should get an iPad to tide me over. But I hang tough, and finally he agrees to let me spend a couple hundred bucks on a new phone. Then Connor proceeds to tell me what else I need. Like a film to cover the front of my smart phone, and a case to protect the rest of it because without these, it’ll break if you look at it wrong! See apparently, a smart phone comes into the world naked, and you have to dress it up before you take it home. That was my favorite part. There’s all these different kinds of cases to chose from, and colors and designs. I got one that’s just adorable, pink with flowers. Oh, and I needed a charger for my car, too, ‘cause now that I have it, I’m gonna want it juiced up all the time.

So Connor disappears to put the phone in the case, the film on the phone and whatever else he has to do. And I wander around lookin’ at all the other shiny, magical things in the store. And somethin’ strange starts to happen. Pretty soon I’m thinking, maybe one of those iPads would be a good idea. And oh, look at this thingy, you put your phone in and it plays music!
But then Connor’s back with my smart phone, lookin’ sharp in its new pink outfit. He asks, “Is there’s anything else you need?”

And Techno-Zombie Ida says, “I don’t know, Connor, is there something else I need?”
That's when I realize this is no different than being at the hairdresser. I’ll buy anything Patsy tells me to. Anything! Thank goodness, Connor just wants to process me and move on to the next dazed and confused middle-aged person.

Before I leave the store, I make him give me a little lesson, you know, get me started. I also asked him to set up my email, so I can make sure I don’t miss any opportunities to improve my sex life or help out an African prince. But he couldn’t do it, ‘cause I didn’t know the password. So, off I go with my new smart phone that does everything shy of makin’ your bed, but all I can do is make calls on it. Just like my old phone.

Caitlin tried to set up my email for me, but couldn’t, so I had to go back to the store and have them do it. (Things like this always involved a minimum of two trips.) I got a different young fella this time who did basically what Caitlin did, but apparently knew the magic words.

So finally, I’m all set. I can get email on my phone, though I can barely read it, the writing is so small, and I can’t erase anything. Weird! And I keep getting into places on the phone I can’t get out of. Or, a microphone appears and asks me what I want, but when I want the microphone, I can’t find it. I guess that’s why they’re called smart phones. They’re smarter than the person using ‘em. At least in my case.

But I’m determined to figure this thing out ‘cause I’m nothin’ if not stubborn. And like being a brunette, I’m sure someday I’ll look back on this time and think, I don’t even remember what life was like without my smart phone!

09/10/2012

Labor Day is behind us, and, folks, we’re into one of the nicest months of the year here in Maine. September’s full of clear sunny days free of humidity, followed by those crisp nights, just perfect for snoozing. All of a sudden, the tourists have transformed from exasperated parents with their cranky, little sunburned kids, to retired couples, kickin’ back and livin’ the dream. And you can actually get a parkin’ spot on Main Street!

Me, I always get that back-to-business shot of energy ingrained no doubt from years of school. Years of September representin’ new outfits, new notebooks and a new teacher and schedule. No more lazin’ around all day, playing with my friends.

Do you remember what that was like? I was reminded a couple weeks ago, just before Labor Day actually, when I was out ridin’ my bike one morning. Yes, I’m still hanging in there with Marge.

Ida, 5 years old

(Me and my yard sale bike are on a first name basis, now. We have long conversations, which, I admit, turn a little testy when I’m pedaling uphill.) I don’t know if I’ve improved all that much, but I’m hanging in there. It’s kind of fun, really. I even got some streamers for my handle bars.

So this particular day, I’m pedaling along when I see these two young girls up ahead, maybe nine or ten years old. They’ve got their helmets on (good), but they’re riding their bikes on the wrong side of the road, my side (not good). They get off their bikes, and one of them puts her hands on the ground. What is she doin’, I’m thinking? I slow down as I pass, and see that she’s protecting a caterpillar, one of those fuzzy ones, orange and black.

That picture just kind of stuck in my head, and every time I think of it, I remember what it was like to be that little girl. Not that we wore bike helmets back then, but what it was like to be concerned about the welfare of a lowly caterpillar. Like that was the most important thing in the world.

That’s right up there with catchin’ fireflies in a jar. Or bringing home tadpoles, thinking I could keep ‘em alive long enough to watch them grow into frogs. Or starin’ in wonder at a spider’s web, instead of vacuuming it up without thinking about Charlotte and Wilbur, or how hard I cried when Charlotte died.

By now those little girls are trudgin’ back and forth to school, their backpacks so loaded down with stuff they look like turtles. And I’m planting mums in my flower boxes, closing the windows at night and puttin’ on a sweater before taking Scamp out for his morning constitutional.

Still, as I ride by that spot where I saw those little girls, I remember what it was like growin’ up here in Mahoosuc Mills. I stubbornly pedal up the last big hill, and let out a “whoop” as we coast down the other side, me and Marge cutting quite a figure, with streamers flyin’ and my finger not far from my “get the hell out of my way ‘cause I’m not sure I can stop this thing” bell. And I’m thinking of Charlotte and her web, and how “terrific,” “radiant” and “humble” I feel on this beautiful September day in Maine.

Ida's Videos

About Ida

Ida LeClair lives in Mahoosuc Mills, a small town in western Maine, with her husband, Charlie and their little dog, Scamp. When Ida's not busy telling you about the funnier side of life, she works as a cashier down to the A & P, and moonlights doing books for Smitty's Hardware and the Mahoosuc Mills Mainely Maine store. Though her hobbies include Zumba, crafts, and country line dancing, perhaps her favorite are the adventures she has with her friends, Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot, and Shirley (a.k.a. the Women Who Run With the Moose).

About Susan

Writer and performer Susan Poulin is the author of ten plays, five of which feature her alter-ego, Ida LeClair. Selected by Portland Magazine as one of the "Ten Most Intriguing People in Maine," Susan Poulin has been creating and touring her original theatrical productions since 1992. Her work has been supported by the NH State Council on the Arts, the Maine Arts Commission, and the Maine Humanities Council. Susan is also a popular keynote speaker, and has brought her humor and insight to presentations for a wide variety of organizations. Born in Jackman, ME, Susan now lives in Eliot with her husband and collaborator, Gordon Carlisle, and their dog, Charlie (who oddly bears a striking resemblance to Ida's dog, Scamp).